


The cruel thing was, it felt like the mistake was mine, for trusting you

by Istra_Faemore



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Caring Lucifer, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-10
Updated: 2014-04-10
Packaged: 2018-01-18 21:39:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,403
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1443829
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Istra_Faemore/pseuds/Istra_Faemore
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam couldn't honestly say when he started to trust the Devil</p>
            </blockquote>





	The cruel thing was, it felt like the mistake was mine, for trusting you

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry for the angst. Inspired by entanglednow's _How Traditions Get Started_

"I want to give you a gift. I want to give you everything."

The first time Lucifer had said that to him, he hadn't believed him. He'd just thrown Tim and Reggie out of the bar, had picked up as best he could and took off, without a word or anything to Lindsey. It was his fault, after all, that she had been in danger. Even away from Dean, he couldn't live a normal life. He had to assume that as more hunters confronted more demons, that they would come gunning for him. He _had_ let the fucking Devil out of his cage. Kick-started the apocalypse. So he stole a car, put as many miles between him and that podunk town, ditched the car and hitchhiked to another outskirts town in the middle of no and where before bedding down.

Only to discover he had the personal attention of an archangel. Not just any archangel but the archangel that _no one_ would want attention from.

Lucifer. 

~~~~~~~~~~

Sam couldn't honestly say when he started to trust the Devil. He couldn't even really say when he began to think he was attractive. It was as though the more they spoke, the more they had in common. Looking back, he thought he started to believe Lucifer when Dean rejected them getting back together. Hunters. Brothers. As they were meant to be.

He'd fallen into a fitful sleep around eleven am when he'd finally paced and fretted himself asleep around eleven am. Later, he was told that his rest was that fitful that he sank into the deep sleep that Lucifer could filter through for only minutes at a time. Lucifer, always with a concerned air and look when talking of Sam's brother, had actually began to worry and had sent his demons to scour the towns they were in for a glimpse of him, cursing every second about his paranoid little brother's sigils. 

When Sam had eventually told Lucifer about Dean's betrayal, Lucifer had held him close, his anger at a distant Father that could do this to Sam, stirring up the feelings of Michael's betrayal of him. But he was determined that this time, this one insignificant to God time, it would be different: no one held Lucifer after Michael, but _he_ would hold Sam. He found himself glaring up at the ceiling, in the direction of Heaven, wondering once more, what God, what _father_ could do this to a son they profess to love. After that, Sam had divulged that John Winchester had told Dean he might need to kill Sam, and Lucifer's rage was incandescent. Of course, he never let his precious Sam see that, but it strengthened his determination to hold God accountable for his actions.

So yeah, Sam couldn't honestly say when he started to trust the Devil. 

But he could put a finger on when he started to fall in love with him. He fought it at first, because come _on_ it was the Devil and he _did_ want to wear Sam to the prom. It just crept in slowly, tendrils of affection, of touches. Fanned the flames of lust burning inside Sam.

The first time he told Lucifer he loved him, he woke up suddenly. Flashed awake in a surge of adrenaline that he only experiences hunts. The beat of his heart, the thrill of the chase. He gasped of breath, the words tumbling through his mind. He couldn't believe that he had said that. To _Lucifer_.

He didn't go to sleep for a couple of days. 

The next time he did, Lucifer had looked at him with this inscrutable look, head tilted. It was, for all the world, a tilt he had only saw before on Castiel when some human eccentric behaviour had confused him and his perceptions of normality - or at least what Sam had thought was his perceptions, as being an angel, they must be different to a humans.

"Love me," Lucifer had said softly, flatly, without emotion. "You say you love me, and yet, you run away. You leave me. I didn't think you would ever come back." 

Lucifer had looked like shit. Hell, he'd looked like _Hell_. If Sam didn't know what angels didn't need to sleep or eat, he'd have said that Lucifer hadn't been sleeping _or_ eating. And as much as an angel needs to take care of themselves, Lucifer was obviously lacking. 

Sam's heart clenched. Because, yeah. Yeah he did. He left Lucifer, _like Michael_ did. He betrayed him. And it was sort of his fault that Lucifer looked like crap. He'd admitted his love, and run scared like the Host when Lucifer had needed his brothers the most. Had left him standing alone. In the dark. 

He took a tentative step forward, then another before flinging himself at the angel. "I'm sorry. Sorry. I was shocked. I scared myself. I came back." 

Lucifer had been reluctant to hold him, to forgive him. But Sam had pressed butterfly kisses onto his cheeks, held his face between warm, calloused hands. Lucifer shook and broke to pieces in Sam's arms. The _Devil_ cried in him arms, and Sam held and held. 

The first kiss they shared was sweet with uncertain lust and fledgling love. They spilled on the mattress, linens skewed, limbs splayed, trying their best to merge. Sam remembered the way Lucifer's eyes darkened as Sam's clothes pooled on the floor; had shivered and moaned as he was pushed back, jeans and boxers edged off slowly, Lucifer pausing to lick and nibble at each unveiled piece of skin. Sam pushed at his head, wanting to move that hot mouth to wear he needed it most. But trying to force an angel to do something he didn't want to do was impossible. He was all angel-hard and stubborn. 

He definitely remembered begging him to please do something _please_ touch him. And Lucifer's laughter reverberated in his veins, pumping the blood around his body in a fireblast of desire. He remembered thrusting into that mouth, of fucking it in an echo of what he wanted Lucifer to do to him. 

And then there was no more words, only sounds: the moans and gasps Lucifer coaxed from Sam, the sound of flesh on flesh. Lucifer had opened Sam up slowly, pressing him down into the bed, encouraging him to fuck himself on his fingers. And Sam didn't disappoint. He gripped Lucifer's shoulders hard enough to draw blood with his nails, which drove the Morningstar into more of a frenzy.

When he pushed himself into Sam, the hunter had scraped those nails up and down his back. "Don't do that, Sam. I don't want to be rough our first time," he growled, nipping his neck. "Stop touching my back." But Sam was too far gone, too lost to the pleasure of Lucifer's cock inside him

Lucifer snapped his hips, angling the thrust to stroke Sam's prostate, earning a pleasured shout from Sam. When Sam went to wrap his hand around his dick, Lucifer pinned it to the bed. "No," he hissed. "No, you come on my cock, or not at all." And damned if that didn't send a spiral of lust all the way to Sam's cock. He threw his head back and panted, writhing under slick heat of Lucifer.

Lucifer pushed him down into the mattress, thrusting hard, once, twice, three times before coming, coating Sam with his release. Sam followed him, crying Lucifer's name as he came. He shivered, sobbing with the intense pleasure.

"Sam," Lucifer whispered brokenly into his skin. "Oh fuck, Sam."

Yeah Sam could put a finger on when he started to fall in love with him.

~~~~~~~~~~

What he really wished he _couldn't_ remember was the look on Lucifer's face, the stunned disbelief, the broken betrayal when Sam told him that they shouldn't do this anymore. That Dean had called him and he was meeting him. 

Then: that he'd joined back with Dean. 

That he was leaving Lucifer. 

Lucifer's face was etched into his memory. It burned every night. The utter despair that yet another person who had professed to love him had left him. Had pushed him away. Lucifer never came back into his dreams again.

The next time Sam saw him, after Ellen and Jo had died, his eyes had been dead, hardened. Utterly convinced in the conviction that no one loved him.

Or ever would.

Sam's heart broke.


End file.
